


Mistle-Oh-No

by KyloTrashForever



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Antagonistic Emails, Asshole Ben Solo, Banter, Christmas, Christmas Party, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Knowing Leia, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Parental Set Up, Smut In a Shed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: Why is hehere?She remembers now, the name he’d tried to give her.Ben. Had Leia really saidher son? Had he somehow tracked her down? Oh, God. What if he told Leia the way she behaved at the party? What if he—But she notices now. How shocked he looks. How his surprise to find her here seems to mirror her own, and Rey feels as if she’s been struck by lightning. Sounds fade and colors die and she’s just soshockedbecause surely he can’t be—surely she didn’tactually—Oh, God.Oh,God.She kissedKylo Ren.In which Rey finds a lot more than she bargained for underneath the mistletoe.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 637
Kudos: 2044
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts), Stuff I love so much I even created a collection so I can read it again at some point





	1. The Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt from @reylo_prompts:  
>  _Ben and Rey kiss under the mistletoe at a holiday party. Ben doesn't know Rey's his mom's assistant, and Rey doesn't know he's the asshole she likes to yell at over the phone._
> 
> I changed some aspects, but the spirit is still there, I hope!
> 
> This FANTASTIC animation was made by [poseyregalis](https://twitter.com/poseyregalis) on Twitter, and it might be the best Christmas present I’ll receive this year. I cannot her over how talented Reylos are. This is amazing. 😭❤️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here is my mandatory Christmas fic! It's very tropey and definitely an excuse for antagonistic Christmas smut, but hopefully it gives you a holly jolly Christmas! ❤️

* * *

** To: Rey Niima (reyniima@resistancesystems.org )  **

** From: Kylo Ren (kyloren@firstorderoperations.net )  **

** Subject: As per my last email…  **

_Ms. Niima,_

_I feel obligated to tell you, as I have several times over the last few weeks, that the plans you have sent over aren’t at all sustainable. I am not sure where you obtained your engineering degree—but surely even to you it must be apparent that the changes you’ve suggested for the control mechanism aren’t at all something that can actually be done . I think perhaps you’ve wasted enough time with your reaching, and if you would like to continue with the collaboration between Resistance and FO, I must ask that you continue onwards with the previous suggestions I so generously mapped out, even at the risk of doing your job for you. If you and your team can’t handle something so simple, perhaps I will need to speak to Mrs. Organa about finding someone who can._

_Best Wishes,_

_Kylo Ren_

_Lead Project Manager_

_First Order Operations_

* * *

Rey snarls as she shoves away her laptop, letting out a frustrated sound as her blood pounds in her ears. What an absolute _ass_. She’s had the _pleasure_ of becoming somewhat acquainted with Kylo Ren in the last few weeks—an unfortunate byproduct of the cooperation of their two respective companies as a result of what can only be described as a _publicity stunt_ in Rey’s opinion. She would never say this to Leia, of course, not when she knows how important it is to her, for whatever reason. Leia had been so _excited_ when the okay came through from First Order Operations, and Rey can’t for the life of her determine _why_. 

Resistance Systems has never been quite as _far-reaching_ as First Order, but there has never been any reason to believe that they _needed_ the aid of a larger and more asshole-ish (also in Rey’s opinion) company—it isn’t as if her designs (because they are _hers,_ damnit) couldn’t be carried out in-house.

Yet here she is, being assaulted with pompous suggestions about whether or not she is capable of carrying out _her own ideas_.

She sighs as she glances over at her workstation, taking in the prototype for the new robotic prosthesis that, if she can do what she set out to, will be more lifelike and emulate more human-like movement than any other model on the market. It could be _revolutionary_ —if it weren’t for assholes like _Kylo Ren._ Telling her she can’t do it. Acting as if she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. _Mansplaining_ every little thing at every turn until she wants to claw her own eyes out—or maybe just his.

Her silent fuming is interrupted as a knock sounds at her office door, and she swivels in her chair much like a villain in an old movie, her frown only solidifying the image.

“Woah,” Poe laughs. “Who died in here?”

“No one yet,” she grumbles, “but the jury is still out on _Kylo Ren._ ” She says his name like a five-year-old mocking one of their kin. “Do you think it’s hard to hire a hitman?”

Poe laughs under his breath. “Hux tells me he’s a real piece of work. Did I tell you that he yelled at a kitten?”

“He did not.”

“Hux swears on his mother.”

Rey laughs then, and oddly it makes her feel better about the whole thing. “He _would_ yell at a kitten.”

“What are you still doing here, anyway? Are you not going to the party?”

Rey rolls her eyes. “As if Leia would let me get away with not going. I just had some last minute things to finish up. I brought my dress with me—I’ll come down in a little while.”

“Well,” Poe huffs as he straightens his tie, “just get down there before Hux eats all the shrimp cocktail.”

Thinking of Poe bickering over hors d'oeuvres with his boyfriend makes her smile, but the thought immediately branches off to who Hux _works_ for—and her mood sours again. “Do you think _he’ll_ be there?”

“Who, Ren?” Poe makes a face. “Big tadoo like him? Doubtful. I think Hux told me that he spends Christmas replenishing his strength in a dark cave somewhere.”

Rey barks out a laugh. “Okay. Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Now get your dancing shoes on, Niima. I call dibs.”

She offers him a smile. “See you down there in a bit.”

She watches him go, huffing out a breath through her nostrils before sparing one last glance at her open laptop. She wrinkles her nose with distaste, resisting the urge to reply back with a big fat _fuck off—_ finally deciding his dickish behavior can wait until after the weekend. It _is_ a Christmas party after all. She shuts her laptop before she can change her mind, rising from her desk chair and crossing the space for her dress bag as she tries to push any and all thoughts of Kylo Ren far from her mind.

 _It’s almost Christmas,_ she tells herself. _Try to get in the spirit._

Her mind flicks back to _if you and your team can’t handle something so simple,_ and she scowls all over again, thinking that if Kylo Ren _were_ to show up at this party—she’d give him some _spirit_ alright. 

She’d give him _spirit_ right where the sun doesn’t shine.

* * *

The champagne does wonders for her mood.

She still feels a little ridiculous in this painted-on blue dress that hangs from one shoulder—the one that _Leia_ had helped her pick out, but her belly is warm and her smile is easy after what has to be her third flute. Hux and Poe are off dancing to Mariah Carey’s _All I Want For Christmas Is You—_ and she feels more relaxed than she has in weeks. The pressure of this project has given her more stress than she realized, and it’s good she thinks, to put it all away. At least for one night. When Monday rolls back around it will be back to banging her head against the desk, back to drawing up and _re-_ drawing up plans, back to _Kylo fucking Ren_ and his snark and his dickish-ness, but tonight it is just good food and good friends. 

Tonight everything is okay.

“You don’t like these things either?”

She startles a little at the deep voice beside her, looking up and up and _up_ to find a full mouth and a strong nose and dark hair and those _eyes_ of his, peering down at her, dark and expressive and _distracting_. 

For a moment she sort of forgets what words are, but she blames some of that on the champagne.

She clears her throat, trying to collect herself as she takes another steadying sip. “I don’t mind them.”

“I hate them,” he grouses. “Waste of corporate money, if you ask me.”

It might be the alcohol talking, but something about his grumbling attitude makes her chuckle. “Wow, okay, Mr. Grinch.”

“Grinch?”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “You know, as in: _you’re a mean one_?”

“Ha ha,” he answers dryly.

She smiles around the rim of her glass. “So why, pray tell, are you here then? If it’s such a _waste_.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “My mother sort of strong-armed me.”

“Aw.” That’s actually kind of cute. “What a good boy you are.”

His eyebrow raises at her. “Hardly. We’ve been doing this new thing lately where we actually acknowledge each other’s existence, and this just sort of lumps into that.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it,” she offers idly. 

“I’ll have to ask her—” His eyes scan the room, an easy feat for someone who is head and shoulders above most of the other party-goers. “—if I can find her again that is. She’s always so… _mingly.”_

She huffs out another laugh at his look of distaste. “Let me guess, you don’t care for mingling either?”

“Not particularly,” he chuckles. “Although this isn’t so bad.”

She wonders if he’s had any of the champagne himself, or if that heated look he’s giving her now is just _him._ She clears her throat nervously, looking out at the crowd if only to suppress the way his gaze makes her skin feel warm. “So I haven’t seen you around... Do you work for Resistance, or the enemy?” 

When she turns her face back up to steal another glance, she notices the way his lips curl in amusement. “The enemy?”

“ _First Order.”_ Her five-year-old voice is back in full swing.

“Ah, guilty.” Strangely, his smile only widens. “I take it you aren’t a fan.”

“They’re fine. I guess.” She gives a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders. “I just don’t really understand the point of this _collaboration.”_

“If the headlines are to be believed,” he offers. “It’s to further relations between the two companies to bridge some sort of long-term mutual partnership.”

Rey scoffs. “Yeah. Sure.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he sighs. “I don’t have a lot of faith that it will turn out the way Leia hopes.”

“You don’t?”

He shakes his head. “I think some wounds don’t ever really heal. No matter how many band aids you slap on them.”

Well. That’s… cryptic. She isn’t sure what to say to that, so she settles on saying nothing at all.

And they remain like that for a number of moments—quiet, side-by-side, watching the other party attendees from their little corner of escape—and she can’t help the way she sneaks another glance. He’s just sort of beautiful, and she doesn’t think her noticing has _anything_ to do with the champagne.

The song has faded away, some softer melody lilting out across the wide conference room that Leia’s team has converted into an appropriate space for their annual Christmas party. Rey takes another sip from her flute, feeling it trickle warmth all the way down into her belly, feeling a lot bolder than she would on any other given day. She glances above them, seeing a little sprig of some familiar greenery, and she clears her throat suggestively to draw his attention.

She points above them, raising one finger as a smile paints her mouth. “So, you don't like mingling. You don’t like parties… How do you feel about mistletoe?”

“Mistle...” He glances above, his mouth parting in surprise at her blatant (or at least what she _thinks_ is blatant) invitation—finding her face again with an expression that is much darker than before. “I—” He swallows, looking a little dumbstruck. “I don’t—I don’t mind it so much.”

“Really? It seems pretty festive for someone like you,” she teases.

“Are you asking me to kiss you? Because that’s about the only good thing that could come from this ridiculous party.”

“Well, would you?”

“I don’t even know your name,” he says quietly.

“Isn’t that sort of fun though?” She absolutely _knows_ this is the champagne talking now. “I would hate for you to go through life with no positive party experiences.”

“I—” 

He genuinely looks to be at a loss, but Rey is sort of committed now. He’s too pretty, and she’s too relaxed, and god that _mouth_ of his—she thinks after the few weeks she’s endured, she deserves a bit of recklessness. She reaches for his red silk tie—curling her fingers around it and pulling him further into the dark little alcove they’re hidden away in.

“My name is Ben,” he tells her distractedly. “Ben S—”

“ _Shh,”_ she hushes him. “No names.” 

He’s staring at her mouth now, watching as she pulls him down. He doesn’t fight it, _welcomes_ it even, and she doesn’t stop tugging until his mouth presses against hers. It’s soft and warm and nothing like the rest of him—his grumbling mannerisms and irritable persona melting away as his hands (his _large_ hands) grab for her waist to mold her against him. 

She’d only meant it to be a quick thing—some proverbial middle finger to all the stress she’s endured lately, but when he makes some pained sound, when his tongue traces across the seam of her mouth—she can’t help but open for him. She can’t help but take _more_ . She isn’t sure how such a simple thing turned into groping hands and slanted mouths—but mystery man ( _Ben,_ her mind corrects, half-ruining her kissing a stranger at a party and never seeing them again fantasy) is an actual _force_. He kisses like he was born for it. He kisses like he was made for _her._ Her fingers wind into his hair, and his are gripping her through the soft silk of her dress, and he’s so _big_ , and he feels so _good,_ and she—

She’s breathless when it’s over, and so is he, and she can’t really remember what she was trying to accomplish here, can’t really remember _anything_ outside of how heavy his hands are on her hips—and she blinks dazedly as he draws back to look at her. 

“So, uh,” she manages with the way she’s trying to catch her breath. “What’s the verdict?”

“Mistletoe… isn’t so bad.” The way he’s looking at her is dangerous, because there’s no place for it, she has no _time_ for it—and she clears her throat as she unwinds herself from his grip. As she puts distance between them. “Your name,” he urges. “What’s your—”

“Ah, no,” she interrupts, smoothing her dress and straightening her hair. “No names. You work for the enemy, remember?”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he blessedly keeps his mouth shut. Rey takes a deep breath as she moves around him, patting the breast of his suit and trying not to let her mind linger on how firm it feels beneath. “Merry Christmas, Grinch.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs distractedly. “Merry Christmas.”

Rey doesn’t look back as she leaves him there—even if it’s incredibly hard.

Even if she thinks about him for the rest of the night.

* * *

** To: Rey Niima (reyniima@resistancesystems.org )  **

** From: Kylo Ren (kyloren@firstorderoperations.net )  **

** Subject: Passionate or Pompous?  **

_Ms. Niima,_

_I have to say I have never directly been called a pompous ass, but I appreciate your passion for your ideas, however foundless they may be. I have a meeting at Resistance this morning, and perhaps it’s time we hash this out in person._

_Looking forward to finally meeting you,_

_Kylo Ren_

_Lead Project Manager_

_First Order Operations_

* * *

She wants to scream a little.

Sure, emailing him back before passing out on the tiny couch after being a little kiss-drunk and a lot _drunk-drunk_ isn’t the best idea she ever had—but it had felt so _good_ telling him exactly what she thinks of him. 

Until she found _this_ waiting for her first thing Monday morning.

She has no desire to meet Kylo Ren. Has no want at all to veer from the antagonistic email relationship they’ve carved out for themselves—but she doesn’t think she has a choice in the matter now. She chews at the end of her thumbnail absently, trying to formulate some sort of response. Trying to come up with some way to get _out_ of this, but fate has other ideas.

A knock sounds on her door, and her heart begins to pound wildly because surely he wouldn’t just _seek her out_ —so she is relieved when the door eases open to reveal Leia instead. She blows out a breath of relief, relaxing back into her chair as she smiles up at her mentor. 

“Rey!” Leia greets warmly. “We were just looking for you.” Rey’s brow furrows in confusion as Leia sticks her head back out Rey’s door, waving her hand to gesture someone inside. “In here, Ben.” She turns back to Rey. “My son came by to go over the new contract, and he tells me he wanted to try and finally meet you face-to-face.”

“Ben?” Rey is still a little lost. “I don’t know a—”

Her mouth drops open when he steps into the room. She knows those broad shoulders. Has felt them under her hands. Even though it’s only been forty-eight hours, she can still feel the softness of his mouth as it moved over hers. And now he’s _here._

Why is he _here?_

She remembers now, the name he’d tried to give her. _Ben._ Had Leia really said _her son?_ She remembers the way he’d mentioned coming to the party for his mother. She can’t seem to scrape any sort of reason as to why he would be _here_ though. Here in her office. Had he somehow tracked her down? Oh, God. What if he told Leia the way she behaved at the party? What if he—

But she notices now. How shocked he looks. How his surprise to find her here seems to mirror her own.

“Sorry,” Leia offers, cutting through the stunned moment of silence. “I forget.” She turns to give her son— _Ben—_ an exasperated look. “I don’t know why you insist on keeping that ridiculous professional name.” She shakes her head, returning her attention back to Rey. “I believe you know him as _Kylo Ren.”_

Rey feels as if she’s been struck by lightning. Sounds fade and colors die and she’s just so _shocked_ because surely he can’t be—surely she didn’t _actually_ —

Oh, God.

Oh, _God._

She kissed _Kylo Ren._

The man she hates. The man who has been making her life hell for the better part of a month.

The _enemy._

He nods curtly, eyes still moving tightly over her face as if trying to puzzle out the situation. “Ms. Niima.”

This _cannot_ be happening.

“Well,” Leia says brightly, oblivious to the thick tension swirling in the room. “I have another meeting to get to, anyway. Rey, be sure to show Ben all of your amazing plans you’ve been working on. I’m sure he’d appreciate them.” Leia gives a little wave of her hand. “I can’t make heads or tails of it. Thank God I just sign the papers.” She pats her son on the shoulder. “Rey is brilliant. I’m sure she can get you up to speed.”

She leaves them then, and Rey wants to beg her back. Wants any sort of buffer she can get from the _horror_ that is this situation, but there is nothing now. Nothing but the way he’s looking at her. Nothing but what they’ve _done_. What _she’s_ done.

He crosses his arms, giving her narrowed eyes and pursed mouth. “So,” he says quietly, that voice of his everything she remembered it to be and _why_ does _he_ have to be Kylo Ren? “What was your plan? Seduce me to get what you wanted? Did you think this would help get your designs greenlit?”

Her mouth gapes. Did he really—did he _seriously_ just—

“ _Excuse me?”_

She doesn’t want to hire a hitman at all, turns out, no. 

Rey wants to kill him herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a shocking turn of events


	2. That Changes Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think asshole Ben who doesn't actually realize he's being an asshole is canon. 😂  
> 
> 
> Guys [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) spoils me far more than I deserve and makes the cutest gif boards ever. 😍

“ _Excuse me?”_

She thinks surely she misheard him. Did he actually just accuse her of some sort of corporate subterfuge via drunken kissing? She feels her neck getting hot, and Ben still looks so _disgruntled_. 

“I don’t know what your endgame here was,” he seethes, “but I assure you, none of this will make me more receptive to your ideas.”

For a moment she’s _actually_ too shocked to speak, but then the rising anger inside wins out. “You think I _planned_ this?”

“You must have.” He glances over his shoulder, hastily moving to shut her office door. “Did you look me up? Did my mother point me out? What do you think she would say about this?”

“That you’re an abominable _ass_ with fewer brain cells than I first thought?”

Now it’s his turn to gape. “ _Excuse me?”_

“If you think I’m the sort of person who would—who would even _need_ to—”

His jaw tenses, and he’s half yelling now, and some part of her worries someone else will hear. “So you’re trying to tell me you had _no_ ulterior motive?”

“Of _course_ I didn’t,” she hisses. “You can take that overflowing sense of self-importance and shove it right up your ass.”

She watches his expression change, watches the way it slowly changes from anger to suspicion and then something of obvious _confusion—_ and he tilts his head in a way that would almost be endearing, if she still weren’t contemplating kneeing him between those long legs of his. 

“But… if you didn’t… If it wasn’t because…” He gives her a long look. “Then why _did_ you kiss me?”

“I would think that was obvious.” She laughs scornfully. “Or rather, I _would_ have, before you waltzed in here and accused me of being some sort of corporate whore.”

“I didn’t say you were—” His voice begins to rise again, and she sees that little vein she’s just now beginning to notice throb at his temple, but she sees the way he reins it in. The way he clears his throat before purposely softening his tone. “So what was obvious? Before I—well.” He has the good sense to look… almost _sheepish?_ She hates the way it makes him somehow more attractive. The bastard. “Before this.”

For a moment she considers just throwing him out of her office without an explanation, because isn’t that what he deserves? But then she thinks about him gallivanting about with some half-cocked idea of her festering in the back of his brain—and she gives in with aggressive sigh and a tossing up of her arms. 

“It’s not that complicated? I mean, I’d had enough champagne to own _stock_ at that point, and then his insanely attractive man strolls up, and he’s charming in this weird, grumpy way, and I just—”

“You think I’m attractive?”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m not going to stroke your ego.”

But he doesn’t exactly look smug. He looks… genuinely surprised, actually. “So you just… wanted to kiss me?”

“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes with a snort. “ _Wanted_ being the key word. Past tense. Now I sort of want to throw you out of my window.”

He’s still looking at her skeptically, running a hand through his hair in what she thinks is a nervous gesture—she is forcibly reminded by her traitorous memory just how _soft_ his hair is—and why is he still just _looking_ at her like that?

“That… changes things.”

“Why on Earth would that change things?”

He looks a little rattled now, swallowing thickly as he takes a step. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night.”

“You—” She hates the way her voice sounds all wrong now, but she hasn’t really released the breath that caught in her throat. “You haven’t?”

Is he getting closer? “Not even for a minute.”

 _Tell him to fuck off. Tell him he’s an insufferable prick. Don’t think about how soft his mouth is. Don’t think about how big his_ hands _are. The emails, Rey. Think of the—_

“What have you been thinking about?”

_You are a silly, weak woman._

It’s not her fault, she thinks. She blames it on the way his tongue peeks out to wet his lower lip. The way he’s unabashedly _staring_ at her mouth. What is _happening_ right now?

“About how I shouldn’t have let you leave,” he tells her lowly, the atmosphere of the room rapidly shifting into something that Rey can’t make sense of. “How I shouldn’t have let you go without your name, your number, _something._ ” He’s barely a breath away now, and Rey’s heart is hammering in her chest, still _wildy_ unsure of how they got here. “The way I couldn’t get you out of my head… How you _felt_ in my hands.”

She attempts to swallow, but a lump is rapidly forming in her throat. “Really?”

“ _Fuck,_ yes,” he grinds out. “I wanted more. I wanted to take you _home._ I wanted to touch you more, _feel_ more, but you were so fucking _stubborn—”_

And that’s all it really takes.

It’s not an insult, not really, not in this context, but it’s just enough to bring her to her senses. She is reminded of every single snide comment from his emails. Every little _per my last email_ and _surely even to you_ —and she gives a little shake of her head to ward off the tense air she’s allowed to settle. She takes a step back until her ass hits the edge of her desk, wrangling up every little scrap of indignance that is currently buried under rampant horniness, scowling up at him as she crosses her arms.

“ _Stubborn?_ Is that so? I guess that will go _very_ well with how _incompetent_ I am, too.”

His brow furrows, thrown, she thinks, by this rapid change of mood. “I never said you were—”

“You might as _well_ have,” she retorts bitterly. “For _weeks_ you berated my ideas. Questioned my suggestions. This is _my_ prototype, and you would have me believe that I can’t see it through.”

“Now, hold up, I only suggested that—”

“That I didn’t know what I was _doing.”_

He frowns, looking down at the floor as if actually trying to _recall_ what she’s referencing. Had she been worth so little of his time that he can’t even _remember?_

It’s fairly easy now, summoning back up her anger.

“I think you should go. It’s probably best we find some sort of liaison until this collaboration is complete, given the circumstances.”

“Best for who?”

“You, the company, _me,_ especially—I’m not going to continue to work directly with someone I _made out with_ at an office party. For fuck’s sake, what would Leia think?

Ben mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _leap for joy—_ but he straightens to press a hand to the front of his suit, smoothing down his tie. “Listen, I know I’m not the best with people—”

Rey snorts. “You have the working charm of a rock being used to bludgeon my skull.”

“Regardless,” Ben sighs. “I wasn’t _trying_ to belittle you. I just think that some of the plans you sent are neither cost effective, nor even _workable_ for that matter. I was thinking of the end result.”

“You were thinking of playing it safe to cover your own _ass_ instead of taking chances.”

“Taking _chances_ can end in a billion dollar mistake.”

“Only if you think I can’t _deliver.”_

His jaw works as he stares back at her, and she can tell that he’s mulling over what she’s saying. That he’s considering it from her point of view.

“You have to understand,” he says carefully. “Resistance has a lot more to lose than First Order. You must realize by now that this is my mother’s company. Regardless of our… differences, I don’t want to see it run into the ground because it was bankrupted by overreaching ideas.”

She hadn’t considered that. Any losses they experience because of this project would be pocket change to a conglomerate like First Order, but to Leia…

“None of that changes the way you spoke to me.”

“I told you, I didn’t exactly mean to insult you.”

“Well you _did.”_

“Well I’m _sorry.”_

She narrows her eyes. This victory feels too easily won. “Then you’ll consider my ideas?”

“No,” he scoffs. “I won’t do that.”

“Then I don’t accept your apology.”

“Rey.” He groans, and the sound of it _shouldn’t_ affect her so much, she’s _angry_ , damnit. “Try to be _reasonable.”_

“Reason would imply I’m competent, and you obviously don’t think I am.”

“You are just as obstinate as you are over email.”

“And _you_ are just as pompous.”

He blows out a breath as he looks up at the ceiling. “I’m trying my best to apologize.”

“Keep it,” she huffs. 

“You really won’t accept my apology?”

She crosses her arms, feeling a bit childish but too worked up to care. “Nope.”

“That’s… disappointing,” he sighs, shaking his head. 

“Why, because it doesn’t satisfy your inflated ego?”

“No,” he says evenly. “Because I still want to kiss you again.”

Her breath catches, and she feels heat blooming in her chest. “W-well,” she sputters. “Well, that’s— _never_ going to happen.”

The bastard actually _smiles._ “Never say never, Rey.”

“I’m saying never.”

“We’ll see.”

She’s left gaping, but Ben looks collected now, _unaffected—_ he looks like this argument never even happened.

“Nevertheless,” he goes on. “We _do_ have to work together in the meantime. We’ll have to figure out a way to maintain a professional relationship, at the very least. Somehow.”

“I told you how,” she grumbles. “Stop questioning my ideas.”

“Bring me an idea I can work with,” he tells her matter-of-factly, “and I will.” She’s just about to tell him _exactly_ where he can put his _ideas he can work with—_ but he doesn’t give her the chance. “I’d better go.” He looks her up and down, that stupid little grin still at at his mouth, (and she doesn’t want to kiss him, she _doesn’t)_ giving her a final curt nod. “It was good to meet you, Rey.” His mouth parts in a little _ah,_ his eyes crinkling. “Or should I say meet you again?”

There might as well be smoke coming out of her ears, and she gives him her back, afraid of what sort of bodily harm she might cause him—or _worse,_ something incredibly stupid like _kiss_ him again—if she’s subjected to the way he’s still looking at her. She bites down on her lower lip so hard it’s almost painful, and she fans her face with her hand to stave off the flush there. 

She thinks for a moment he might do something, might _touch_ her—but she hears his footsteps scuffle along her floor and the sound of her office door creaking open. He lingers there, and she peeks over her shoulder to meet his gaze that is too dark, to _open—_ making her flush in a different sort of way.

“Just so we’re clear,” he murmurs lowly, so low she might miss it if she weren’t wholly _attuned_ to everything he says. “A professional manner isn’t the _only_ way I’d like to have you.”

Her mouth parts in surprise, and he just gives her a small smile that makes her heart pound wildly, and then he’s gone. The door shuts behind him, and Rey is lost to her own confusion that wars with irritation and even a bit of unwanted _arousal_ because _who does he think he is?_

“Bastard,” she mutters for her own benefit. 

Rey thinks she’ll never drink champagne again for as long as she lives. 

* * *

She’s still half-seething when she hears a knock at her door nearly a half-hour later, and she swivels in her chair, immediately defensive as she considers the possibility of _him_ coming back. 

“Knock, knock,” Leia calls, her voice putting Rey at ease because thank _Christ._ “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Rey assures her. “Come in, come in.” 

Leia looks around the room, and if Rey isn’t imagining things, she almost thinks the older woman looks disappointed. “Oh, did Ben take off already?”

“Afraid so.” She can’t help the way she frowns a little. “Just a little while ago.”

“Oh, shoot. I was hoping to catch him before he left.” She gives a little shake of her head. “It’s so hard to pin that boy down. Just like his father, that one.” She grimaces. “Not that I would tell _him_ that, mind you.”

“Mind telling me why you never mentioned that your son was Kylo Ren?”

Leia’s brow wrinkles as she settles into the chair across from Rey’s desk. “Did I not tell you that? You’ll have to forgive this old bird. Memory isn’t what it used to be.”

“Your son is… a little difficult to work with,” Rey tries carefully. 

“Ornery is what he is,” Leia laughs. Her smile lessens then, frowning down into her lap. “I’m trying my best to worm my way back into his life, between you and me. We… haven’t had the best go of it in the past.”

“Really?”

“I guess that’s the best way to put it,” Leia sighs. “I didn’t mean to blindside you, dear. I could have sworn I had mentioned it. This whole collaboration has been such a _whirlwind.”_

Her expression softens, and Rey can see it there—how badly she needs this. She thinks now that she knows about Ky— _Ben—_ it makes a lot more sense.She finds herself wondering just what happened between them to make things so strained. 

“I’m sorry things are tense between you,” Rey offers.

Leia waves her off. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I made my bed. I was always doing too much working when I should have been doing a lot more loving. All I can do now is be patient and hope he'll come around.”

“I’m sure he will.” 

Leia nods thoughtfully, then shakes her head as if to shrug off the heaviness of the conversation. “Anyway, how are things going? Any headway?”

“Well…” She is hesitant now to voice her discontent with the whole thing. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she pastes on a small smile. “We’re still figuring everything out. It’ll all come together soon.”

Leia claps her hands in delight. “I can’t tell you what that means to me. I was really hoping the two of you would get along.” She reaches across the desk to pat Rey’s hand. “You’re such a godsend. You know that, right?”

Rey pushes down the swelling emotion in her chest that stems from only a few words from someone she admires so much. “Thank you.”

“Well.” Leia nods idly, giving Rey’s hand another pat. “I’d better go do some actual work. If they find out how little they need me—they might finally force me out of here.”

“I highly doubt that,” Rey laughs. 

Leia shrugs. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Right.”

Leia rises from her chair, shuffling across Rey’s office and turning at her doorway to give her one last hopeful expression. “I know what my son is like, Rey,” she says honestly. “I appreciate you tolerating what I’m sure are... grand shenanigans for the sake of the project.”

_Well, shit._

“Of course,” Rey answers tightly. “It’s going to be fine, Leia.”

Leia’s eye crinkles at the corners, and Rey finds herself thinking that there isn’t much she wouldn’t do for this woman—this woman who gave her a shot before anyone had any reason to. This woman she sort of owes _everything_ to. 

“Keep your chin up, kiddo,” Leia tosses over her shoulder as she shuts Rey’s door behind her. 

Rey leans back in her chair, blowing out a steady stream of air as she mulls over the fact that she will most likely have to continue her antagonistic—now _strained_ due to her own errant mouth and his audacity to look like he does—relationship. She drums her fingers along her desk as she stares down at her laptop, thinking that perhaps it’s best to just rip off the bandaid. That maybe it’s better to clear the air now rather than let it fester. She pulls her laptop closer, pulling up a new draft as she begins to tap it away, clinging to her resolve to bite the proverbial bullet, as it were.

**To: Kylo Ren (kyloren@firstorderoperations.net)**

**From: Rey Niima (reyniima@resistancesystems.org)**

**Subject: I’ve been thinking.**

_Mr. Ren (or should I just call you Ben now, considering?),_

_I have given a lot of thought to our conversation, and I think perhaps I can overlook the past few weeks and start fresh, for the good of the project. Leia is counting on me, and I am not sure if you are aware, but I owe your mother a lot. In light of that, I think we can just try and move past all this— including the events of this weekend. If that seems acceptable to you._

_Sincerely,_

_Rey Niima_

_Lead Biomedical Engineer_

_Resistance Systems_

She nods to herself as she reads it over, thinking it sounds perfectly professional and accommodating, considering she’d still like to stomp at his crotch a little.

 _Oh dear God,_ she groans internally. _Don’t think about his crotch. That will only lead to how much you’re wondering if he’s proport—_

No. She isn’t going there. 

She hits _send_ before she can change her mind, a relieved rush of air leaving her as she tells herself that it’s fine. That he probably won’t even see it for a while yet, and that’s plenty of time for her to collect hers—

_Ping!_

She gapes at her laptop, thinking that _surely_ it can’t be—that _surely_ it isn’t him. It’s been a grand total of three minutes. He couldn’t have found time to answer this quickly.

But then she sees it there, his name in bold letters. See the damned _subject line_. It’s definitely him, all right. 

**To: Rey Niima (reyniima@resistancesystems.org)**

**From: Kylo Ren (kyloren@firstorderoperations.net)**

**Subject: I thought you might.**

_Rey (I think first names are more than appropriate now, considering),_

_Does this mean you’ve decided to accept my apology?_

_P.S. What about the other thing I suggested in regards to professional relationships?_

_Here’s hoping,_

_Ben Solo_

_Lead Project Manager_

_First Order Operations_

Her face immediately starts to heat, something about this one sentence enough to have her imagining the way he might say it in person. That infuriating little quirk of his mouth. The way he would _look_ at her when he asked. It probably shouldn’t irritate her as much it does, but it does. It _really_ does.

_A professional manner isn’t the only way I’d like to have you._

She’s tapping out a reply before she can stop herself.

**To: Kylo Ren (kyloren@firstorderoperations.net)**

**From: Rey Niima (reyniima@resistancesystems.org)**

**Subject: Hardly.**

_Ben,_

_I can agree to find some sort of amiable working relationship for the sake of your mother, and I may even be able to go so far as to accept your (in my opinion) half-hearted apology, given that you try to be a little more… open to my ideas in the foreseeable future. As to your other… suggestion…_

_I’m afraid a professional manner is all you’ll ever get._

_Vehemently,_

_Rey Niima_

_Lead Biomedical Engineer_

_Resistance Systems_

She feels good about it, really. She feels almost like she’s _won._ For the first time since first coming into contact with Kylo Ren, or _Ben Solo—_ Rey thinks she has the upper hand.

Until his reply comes through not a minute later.

**To: Rey Niima (reyniima@resistancesystems.org)**

**From: Kylo Ren (kyloren@firstorderoperations.net)**

**Subject: I like to think I’m patient.**

_We’ll see._

_Determinedly,_

_Ben Solo_

_Lead Project Manager_

_First Order Operations_

Rey doesn’t know if she’s angry or turned on or _both—_ but she’s certain about one thing, at least.

This isn’t over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's beginning to look like Dick-mas 🎶


	3. No Big Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen. I don't know anything more than the (I wish were making this up) hour I spent researching robotic prosthesis. I just needed a convo where Ben actually takes an idea of Rey's—and I learned very quickly the reference I wanted to get in here (can you spot it?) might not have been worth it. 😂
> 
> ANOTHER AMAZING GIF BOARD BY [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen). 😭

** To: Rey Niima (reyniima@resistancesystems.org) **

** From: Kylo Ren (kyloren@firstorderoperations.net) **

** Subject: Back to the old drawing board? **

_I had my team look over your configurations, and they agree they aren’t sufficient. You’ll need to go back over your parameters, I think._

_P.S. Barring this bad news, how was your day?_

_Pleasantly,_

_Ben Solo_

_Lead Project Manager_

_First Order Operations_

**To: Kylo Ren (kyloren@firstorderoperations.net)**

**From: Rey Niima (reyniima@resistancesystems.org)**

**Subject: Check again.**

_Ben,_

_My team has looked over it thoroughly, and think it can work. You can imagine who I trust in this matter. Upgrading the CPU will only increase cost to levels that aren’t feasible. We want this to be an affordable option as well as a favorable one. Perhaps we should schedule some sort of sit down with both teams to hash this out._

_P.S. It would be a lot better if you even pretended to be considering my thought process for once._

_Irritably,_

_Rey Niima_

_Lead Biomedical Engineer_

_Resistance Systems_

** To: Rey Niima (reyniima@resistancesystems.org) **

** From: Kylo Ren (kyloren@firstorderoperations.net) **

** Subject: Checking it twice.  **

_If you wanted to see me again, you could just ask._

_Hopefully,_

_Ben Solo_

_Lead Project Manager_

_First Order Operations  
_

* * *

Rey wants to bang her head against the desk. She thought that she wanted to strangle Ben Solo when he was just a faceless bastard who rejected all her ideas. She could never have been prepared for how insane he would make her when he morphed into this devastatingly good looking man on the other side of her screen who not only continues to reject all of her ideas, but insists on _flirting_ with her as well. Or at least, what he perceives as flirting. She’s not sure it can actually be called flirting when it is tacked onto the end of a berating email.

This has been her life for the past three days, and while she has done her best to circumvent his maddening behavior—it is made harder to do so with the memory of that _kiss_ forever lingering in the back of her mind. 

And it is, lingering. It’s damn near carved out a space and taken up residence. She should be charging that memory _rent_ by now.

Does he _have_ to be so maddeningly attractive?

It makes it a lot harder to hate him as much as she would like to. Hell, as much as she did a _week_ ago.

She takes a deep breath as she finally summons the will to respond, having stared at _his_ response for a good thirty minutes—having every intention of navigating around his impossible nature yet again—but she is interrupted (whether blessedly or unfortunately she can’t be sure) by a knock at her door. She turns in her chair just in time to catch Poe peeking his head in her door, pushing inside without invitation as he’s prone to do.

“Hey, what does your afternoon look like?”

Rey frowns as she considers. “Um, I was going to head down to the lab to check on the progress of the schematics I sent down yesterday.”

“I need a favor,” Poe counters.

“Every time you ask me for a favor, I end up doing something I hate.”

“That’s not true,” Poe argues. “Remember the wine tasting in Santa Monica?”

“You didn’t tell me that it was a reward for sitting through a four hour symposium on theoretical mechanics.”

“Yes, but… free wine.”

“They don’t tell you that about eighty percent of the wine at those things are dry as hell.”

“Still, I’m just saying you didn’t—” He huffs out a breath through his nostrils. “You’re getting me off track. I _do_ need a favor.”

“Okay,” Rey sighs. “What is it?”

“I need you to come with me to First Order today.”

She immediately bristles. “Why?”

“The head engineer over there has run into some issues with the circuit diagram and wants my opinion. It would be easier if you just come too instead of me playing middle man.”

“I’m sure you could handle it,” she tells him weakly, knowing under any other circumstances she would _absolutely_ be demanding to come with him. “There are some things I could be working on here.”

“What?” Poe makes a face. “Any other given day you’d be chewing on my ass if I didn’t invite you.”

He has a point, and she knows that, but what if _he’s_ there?

She bites at her lower lip, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before deciding to just bite the bullet. “You don’t think we’ll run into B— _Kylo,_ do you?”

Poe cocks an eyebrow. “Kylo Ren? Doubtful. Guys like that don’t come down to the work floor and get their hands dirty. He’ll be up in his fancy office bossing Hux around.”

Rey isn’t entirely convinced, and she isn’t sure if she’s willing to risk the overwhelming attraction she feels when she sees him. Not to mention the urges to _maim_ him. It makes for one _very_ confusing interaction. 

“Come _on,_ Rey,” Poe urges. “I’ve never seen you act like such a scaredy cat.”

She narrows her eyes. “If you had to deal with him directly, you’d understand.”

She doesn’t mention the entirety of _why_ this is true—thinking Poe doesn’t need to know about how Ben can seem… almost charming when he wants to. 

“We’ll be in and out,” Poe assures her. “What are the chances he’d be down on the fourth floor when his office is up on the thirtieth?”

Rey thinks this is sound logic, and it calms her, somewhat. Poe has a fair point—even with her _(slightly)_ shifting view of him, she thinks there’s no way Ben would be down there getting his hands dirty, so to speak. Not when he has hundreds of employees that he can order around. It’s fine. Surely.

“Okay,” she relents. “I’ll go. You’re right. There’s no way he’ll be there.”

“Great.” Poe claps his hands together. “And maybe I’ll sneak away and see Hux.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “Are you only bringing me so you can go see your boyfriend?”

“Me?” Poe pretends to look shocked. “I would never. It’s not my fault you’re so capable.”

Rey shakes her head as she rises from her chair, grabbing for her coat. “Yeah. Sure.”

“It’ll be fine,” Poe tells her.

Rey hopes he’s right.

* * *

In retrospect, Rey probably should have known better. 

To his credit, Poe had lasted an entire half hour of listening to Dopheld go over his concerns with the circuit diagram. Rey likes Dopheld, finding him incredibly capable—but she can tell within four seconds of meeting him that he will never be the type of person to push things. To _try_ things. 

She wonders if he’s the one who’s been helping Ben make the seemingly quick decisions to shoot down every little suggestion she poses. 

Poe is nowhere to be found now, and she’s listening intently to Dopheld explain the same thing for the third time. “I’m just saying, that if we don’t—”

“You’re going to have a hard time convincing this one, Mitaka.”

It takes everything she has not to groan. Hell, it takes everything she has not to _scream._ Had she really convinced herself she wouldn’t run into him? Poe’s argument, to be fair, had seemed entirely logical. Why _would_ he come down here?

Which poses the question: _what the fuck is he doing here?_

She takes a deep breath in lieu of stamping her foot, turning slowly as she braces herself for what she’ll find. She still isn’t used to pairing _him—_ tall, so _tall_ , hair she thinks is somehow fuckable, god, that _mouth—_ with the incorrigible asshole she’s dealt with for the better part of a month, but here he is in all his _fuck me eyes_ glory.

He’s smiling, or rather _smirking—_ and Rey’s expression is blank, if not weary. 

“Ben,” she says tightly. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“You didn’t?” He looks amused, and she wants to remove the expression off his face. By force, if necessary. “You didn’t expect to see me here? At my place of work? At the company I own stock in?”

There’s a tic forming in her jaw from the way she’s working it tensely. “I didn’t expect to see you down _here_. I imagined you’d be holed up in your fancy office that’s probably bigger than your good sense.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, shrugging slightly. “I have a lot of things bigger than my good sense.”

Her mouth gapes open as her neck heats, and she thinks she could _kick_ him for the blatant innuendo—if she wasn’t so busy imagining the implication. _Goddamnit._ Her eyes flick over to Dopheld, worried he’s probably reading _entirely_ too much into whatever is happening here, but he’s already given his attention to his tablet where he’s apparently checking his data again, sensing he’s no longer being spoken to. 

Ben just stares down at her pleasantly, as if they’re old friends, as if she really _did_ come here to see him (she didn’t, she _absolutely_ didn’t), and Rey crosses her arms as the heat creeps down onto her neck. He just gets her so _riled._

“I was just going over the data for the circuit diagram,” she informs him flatly. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

He cocks his head. “I think I should be concerned with all aspects of my projects, Rey.”

“As if you even care about the people who’ll be using this,” she bites back. 

He studies her for a few moments, his mouth in a tight line. “Actually, I have a cousin who lost most of his lower arm in Iraq. He could very well benefit from this project upon completion. So. I’m very invested, as you might imagine.”

Her anger morphs into slight embarrassment. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he offers simply. “Care to tell me what the problem is?”

Ben turns to Dopheld, and it takes a few moments for the smaller man to check back into reality. He jerks his head up as Ben quietly repeats his name. “Hm? Oh. Right.” He turns his clipboard around so that Ben can see. “I think we just need to reconfigure. With Rey wanting to to add a rotation unit to the wrist—”

Ben snatches the clipboard away. “A rotation unit?”

“There is currently only one other model on the market that has one,” Rey points out.

“With good reason,” Ben mutters. “They’re not practical. Have you noticed the model you’re referring to is pricier than any other model on the current market?”

“But with the new microcontrollers from Intel, I think we can add it in without upgrading the CPU,” Rey counters.

Dopheld sighs. “Which is where we disagree.”

“They operate with a higher amount of memory than our current microcontrollers,” Rey argues. “They can handle an increase in sensors, which can easily allow for a rotation unit without increasing the CPU.”

Ben stares down at the diagram with a furrowed brow. “And these are compatible with the actuator we’re using?”

“Yes,” Rey answers determinedly. 

Ben turns his head to give Dopheld a searching look. “And you’re not so sure?”

“I—” Dopheld looks to Rey nervously, offering an apologetic look. “I’m not so sure.”

Rey knows immediately that Ben will defer to Dopheld, that he will dismiss her suggestions as he always has—and she steels herself for the impending disappointment. His jaw works as he glances back over the diagram, finally releasing a slow stream of air before handing it back to Dopheld. “Okay.”

Dopheld looks confused, and Rey knows the feeling. “Okay?” 

“We’ll take a chance on Rey’s idea.”

She thinks she feels her jaw hit the floor. Did Ben Solo just _agree_ with something she said? Had she actually heard that right?

She’s staring at him with open astonishment. “Really?”

“You seem to really think it can work.” He shrugs. “Plus, if it _does_ —we’ll have the most sought after device on the market. So.” He gives her a wry smile. “Hope you’re right.”

She is, she _knows_ she is (well, okay, mostly, at least ninety percent)—but still it feels… odd—this easy acquiescence he offers. It’s certainly not _like_ him, and for a moment she’s thrown, unsure of what to do.

Someone calls Dopheld’s name, and he offers them a quiet apology before excusing himself to check on whatever issue is arising from across the room. It leaves the two of them standing there—Rey gaping and Ben waiting patiently for her to process what’s just happened with a bemused expression until she finally finds her words.

“That was… agreeable of you.”

He shrugs one shoulder, tucking his chin down in an action that is altogether boyish and infuriating. “I can be all sorts of agreeable, you’ll find.”

“Right.” She wonders if it’s actually hot in this room, or if it’s just her. “Even broken clocks are right twice a day.”

“Ever the skeptic,” he chuckles softly. “I suppose it would be reaching of me to hope you _did_ come by just to see me?”

“Very reaching,” she murmurs, ignoring the way her pulse races. 

He sighs. “Pity.”

“You’re being… very determined.”

“Maybe I’ve just reevaluated some of my more… frustrating tendencies.”

“I can’t imagine why you would do that. You’re hardly the _agreeable_ type.” She narrows her eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with the Ben Solo from a week ago? Or rather, what have you done with _Kylo Ren_?”

“Kylo Ren is just a professional name I adopted to separate myself from my mother’s influence,” he snorts. “And a week ago, you were a faceless engineer who sent me four antagonizing emails a day, questioning every little step of a collaboration I was only half-interested in to begin with.”

She chews on her bottom lip, trying to decide if she should be offended or not. “And now?”

“Now…” His eyes move over the lines of her face, settling on her mouth in a way that’s as innocent as it is obscene, given who is watching. And she is. Watching, She _definitely_ is. “Now you’re a very nice face.” His gaze sweeps down the length of her unabashedly. “A very nice everything, really.” He takes a step, crowding her a little as her eyes dart from side to side only to find no one is paying attention to them. “Who _still_ sends me four antagonizing emails a day,” he laughs. “ _More_ so, now that she knows how much I’d like to be… less than antagonistic, for some reason, and I find myself…” He reaches lazily to brush a stray lock of hair from her temple, and she holds her breath even from something completely innocuous. “ _Very_ interested in this collaboration.”

“You—” She swallows around the lump forming in her throat. “You should have been interested from the start. It’s very important to your mother.”

“My mother just isn’t as good of a kisser as you, I guess,” he teases. She wrinkles her nose at his terrible joke, and he huffs out a laugh. “Okay, fine. I hear you. I _am_ trying, you know. This whole... _being a son_ thing.”

Rey raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “Really.”

“Really.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Would it help you to know I am going to her Christmas dinner tomorrow night?” His mouth turns down in a frown. “Something I haven’t gone to in _years_. I’m sure it’s going to be absolutely awful, but I—”

Rey’s heart begins to pound in her ears. “Tomorrow night?”

“Yes?” He gives her a strange look. “What is it?”

“But you never come to Christmas dinner at Leia’s.”

“Yes, that’s what I...” He trails off, seeming to pick up on her cause of distress. “Oh. You’re going to be there. Aren’t you.”

She nods slowly. “Every year for the last four years.”

“Interesting. Would you rather I didn’t come?”

“What?” She frowns. “No. Of course not. I’m sure it would be mean the world to Leia that you’re there.”

“Maybe we could just… get along for an evening?”

Rey is still thinking about the way he casually touched her hair. The way it _flustered_ her. She’s beginning to worry that her dislike of him is falling to the wayside in light of more… pressing concerns. 

“We could probably do that,” she answers quietly. “For Leia’a sake.”

“Leia’s sake,” he echoes. “Of course.”

“Right.” She shifts her weight from foot to the other nervously. “I’d better… go and rustle up Poe.”

“You’ll probably find him still loitering in the waiting area of my office.”

She chuckles softly. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then?”

She can’t really think straight with the way he’s looking at her. Not like he’s trying to unhinge her, not like he’s trying to _win_ something—he’s looking at her like he just… can’t stop.

“Yeah,” she answers quietly. “Tomorrow night.”

She tries to side step him, but his hand shoots out to catch her wrist. She stares down at where he’s touching her, her skin feeling too hot, too _tight—_ eyes flying up to meet his as her breath grows shallower. 

“I’m… looking forward to it a lot more now,” he tells her.

“It’s just dinner,” she says breathlessly. “It’s not a big deal.”

His mouth splits into a grin. “Right.”

She feels his grip loosen, releasing her, but it’s almost as if she can feel his touch long after. Even after she’s escaped, foregoing searching for Poe and texting him to meet her in the parking garage instead—she can almost feel the warm weight of his fingers against her skin. 

She can almost imagine feeling them _elsewhere._

It _is_ just dinner, something that’s important to Leia, something that’s _completely_ doable—something that she’ll get through none the worse for wear.

Even if somehow she worries that isn’t true. 

_Just dinner,_ she reminds herself. _No big deal._

Right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell cock 🎶


	4. Merry Fucking Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tis the season 😏  
>   
> Gif board by [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) on Twitter! 😍

“Rey, honey, can you get that door?”

The door gives another impatient chime as if in response to Leia’s question. Rey wipes her hands on a dish towel, tossing it on the counter as Leia busies herself with pulling the pie from the oven, tossing a threat over her shoulder in Poe’s direction who is stealing a sliver of ham from the platter.

She knows that every other guest who is coming is _here_ , which means she’s also well aware of who will be waiting for her on Leia’s porch. She takes a deep breath as she moves down the main hall towards the foyer, smoothing the front of her sweater dress and patting her hair for reasons she doesn’t want to look too much into.

It’s only that she wants to seem put together. Only that she doesn’t want to give him any more reasons to doubt her.

Right.

She wrenches the door open, steeling herself for the inevitability that is him, and yet never _quite_ prepared for it.

She hasn’t yet seen him out of his normal tailored suit, something that admittedly just _fits_ him, but this—a snug, heavy-knit sweater of deep red paired with dark jeans and a barely-there grin that makes her insides flutter—well. She thinks this sort of fits him, too.

He’s holding a _pie_ of all things. Something with fruit. Apple, maybe. It looks small and a little ridiculous in his hands. He holds it out in offering, and Rey takes it with a raised brow. 

“I didn’t make it,” he clarifies. “Don’t worry.”

She’s still shocked that he _brought_ it.

“You look nice,” he goes on, and looking up she catches the way his eyes sweep down the length of her. “We sort of match.”

“It wasn’t intentional,” she says hastily.

“Of course it wasn’t,” he laughs. “How could it be?”

“Right.”

“So, uh, it’s cold out here.”

She quickly steps out of the doorway, blushing as she realizes that they’d just been standing there. Ben steps past her, and she shuts the door behind him as he taps his snow-covered feet off on the rug.

“Everyone’s in the kitchen,” she offers. 

“Sounds like ample reason for me to hide in the living room.”

Rey rolls her eyes at his tone. “You’ve already got the hard part down. Might as well just go for it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Rey fails at _not_ checking out the way his jeans hug him as he goes ahead of her towards the kitchen, pursing her lips and thinking that he has no idea how _not_ easy this night will be for her. 

He has no idea at all.

* * *

Dinner is… tense. For lack of a better word. 

Poe stuffs his face as if it isn’t. Hux steals glances at Ben as if he’ll fly off the handle at any moment. Ben steals glances at Rey for reasons Rey doesn’t want to think about. Rey stares down into her plate pretending not to catch these glances. Leia makes conversation with everyone as if none of this is going on, and her husband, Han, seems mostly interested in his peas.

Tense.

“Poe tells me we’ll have a fully testable prototype within the month,” Leia offers while pushing around her potatoes. “That’s promising.”

“It’s also optimistic, at best,” Rey sighs.

“What?” Poe makes a face around a mouthful of ham. “The reports look good. I think we can swing it.”

“We still have to reconfigure for the rotation unit, and Ben’s team doesn’t even think it’s doable.”

“I had them spend the afternoon going back over your data,” Ben says flippantly. “They think they can make it work.”

Rey’s fork stills on its way to her mouth. “Really?”

“You look surprised,” Ben chuckles, turning to flash her a grin. “You seemed so confident.”

“I was,” she snorts. “Am,” she clarifies with more force. “I knew it would work.”

Ben is still smiling as he takes another bite. “Maybe I should listen to you more often, huh?”

Rey thinks she’s gaping. Who _is_ he? Is he really the person she’s come to know? The one she thought she hates?

“I’m so happy to see you two working together,” Leia sighs. She reaches across the table to pat her son’s forearm. “And I’m so happy you’re here.”

“A real Christmas miracle,” Han grunts. 

“Oh, shush,” Leia chides. “I should get out the photo albums after dinner,” she says suddenly. 

“No,” Ben answers immediately. “You shouldn’t.”

“Oh, come on.” She clicks her tongue. “Rey, wouldn’t you like to see Ben in a duck costume?”

Hux perks up. “ _I_ would like to see it.”

“You would like to see a salary decrease as well,” Ben warns, causing the ginger to recoil a bit.

“No, no,” Rey chimes in. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

Ben snorts. “Is this how you reward my confidence in you?”

“I think it’s a fitting repayment for some of the more douchey emails I’ve endured,” Rey teases.

She’s smiling at him, she realizes, and it’s odd, such a lighthearted moment. She thinks it isn’t lost on Ben either, because he’s looking at her like he can’t believe it.

“No duck photos,” Ben mutters.

Rey chuckles under her breath. “We’ll see.”

* * *

“A shoe. A smaller shoe? A shoe?”

Rey taps the giant pad in frustration, mirroring Ben’s.

“A baby shoe?” He really won’t get off this shoe nonsense. She taps the board again. “Rey, it looks like a shoe. Draw something else.”

Poe leans into Hux. “Who paired them up for this again?”

“Leia,” Hux grimaces. 

“Ah,” Poe nods. “Of course.”

The conspirator in question looks wary now, frowning at the unlikely team as Ben tries to guess Rey’s less-than-professional drawing.

“Smaller shoe? Gumshoe? _Baby shoe?”_

Rey draws a circle around her sketch, huffing out a breath. 

“Inside the shoe? It looks like a shoe! You’re an engineer for fuck’s sake!”

The timer _dings_ , and Ben throws up his hands, growling in frustration. “No one guessed shoe! You drew a shoe, then a smaller shoe, and no one guessed it! You have to draw something else!”

Rey chucks her marker at him. “It’s a _sock,_ asshole.”

“A sock.” Ben is standing now, staring down at her sketch, chest rising and falling with irritation. “A three-year-old with a crayon could have drawn a better sock.”

She pokes him in the chest. “Well, you would _know_ seeing as you have a similar mentality.”

“And they were doing so well,” Han mutters from his armchair, taking a sip of his brandy.

“Maybe we should move on from this game,” Leia offers warily. “Or we could look at more photos?”

Ben and Rey turn to face her at the same time, giving a vehement and simultaneous, “ _No_.”

Poe and Hux become very interested in Leia’s coffee table book of French architecture. Han is no nowhere to be found, having snuck out of the room in the last sixty seconds. Leia is now looking at them both as if she’d like to put them over her knee.

“I think both of you could use some cooling off,” Leia says evenly. “Rey, why don’t you go down to the shed and grab more wood for the fire?” She turns to give her son a pointed look. “Ben will come help you. When you get back we are going to have a nice cup of cocoa and open some presents like normal people, damnit.”

The smaller woman makes a disgruntled sound, stalking out of the room into the kitchen and leaving the pair of them standing there with sheepish expressions. Poe and Hux pointedly aren’t looking at them, and Rey casts a bitter look up at the towering frustration who glares down at her. “I can grab it on my own,” Rey grinds out.

“So can I,” Ben counters, pushing past her.

She stomps after him, refusing to let him get any sort of upper hand here, not missing Poe’s muttered, “Remind me never to let them play a game together ever again.”

It’s cold outside, a light dusting of snow on the ground, and she is immediately regretting not stopping for her coat as she storms down the hill after him towards a large shed a few hundred feet from the house. She can hear Ben grumbling about his mother refusing to upgrade to a gas stove, and a high-pitched impression of what she thinks is Leia about _liking the way it crackles._

He pulls open the wooden door with more force than necessary, disappearing inside as a faded light flicks on from an old bulb overhead. She’s shivering when she rushes in past him, and it’s less about proving a point now and more about not losing all her toes. Ben is already grabbing wood from a pile as she shuts the door behind them, and she shoves at his large shoulder. 

“You didn’t have to get so testy,” she hisses.

To his credit, the cold air seems to have calmed him somewhat, and he almost looks… contrite? “I’m not good at games,” he mutters. “No patience.”

“Clearly,” she scoffs.

“Better than being no good simply because you’re just, well, _no good.”_

She wrinkles her nose. “Nice.”

“Well.”

He sets back to grabbing for the wood, and she rubs at her arms to stay the chill there. “Your mom obviously wants us to get along.”

“But do you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been trying, Rey,” he answers bitterly. “Trying pretty hard, actually, and you’re still so damn _hostile_ half the time.”

She reels a bit. “That’s only because you were so—”

“You’re beating a dead horse.” He drops the wood, turning to place his hands on his hips aggravatedly. “Yes, I didn’t respond well to your ideas. Can you blame me? I didn’t _know_ you. And half of them are fairly risky.” He holds out a hand to halt her before she can protest. “Inventive as hell, but risky.”

“But you didn’t have to—”

He isn’t done, apparently. “And half the time instead of sending supportive data to actually back them up, you would just get testy that I didn’t accept them blindly just because _you_ thought I should.”

“I sent data,” she says quietly.

“ _Sometimes.”_

She chews on her lower lip. She hadn't thought of it that way. She has always been one to believe she only has herself to rely on, and the thought of answering to someone else had been _more_ than irritating from the get-go—is it possible she had been combative from the start without realizing?

“I don’t… work well with others,” she offers quietly. “I’ve only ever had myself.”

“Well.” He throws up his hands. “Neither do I.”

She’s holding herself tight, trying not to shiver. “Maybe I could have been more amenable.”

“Maybe I could have been more accommodating.”

There’s a silence between them now, one that is somewhat awkward, and she hears him clear his throat before she looks up at him. “You know… I got you something.”

“You did?”

He nods, reaching into his back pocket. “I didn’t know if I was actually going to give it to you.”

“What is it?”

He wrestles out a small, red box—topped with simple bow, clutching it in his hands and wearing an expression that almost seems _nervous_. One she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him wear. He works his jaw for a few moments as if deciding, placing it in her hands and crossing his arms as he looks down at the floor. Rey pulls at the bow, letting if flutter to the floor as she pulls the lid away to find a single sprig of something very familiar.

She looks up at him open-mouthed, surprised to find him actually _blushing—_ rubbing at his hair and shrugging. “It’s stupid. I just—”

She glances back down into the little box, and then back up at Ben.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says in a rush. “Even when you’re yelling at me I just—”

She plucks the little sprig from the box, eyeing it.

“I know it’s stupid,” he prattles on. “I know you hate me half the time, but I just can’t stop—”

She drops the box, and greenery, and _all of it—_ surging upwards as her reservations and her prejudices melt away in a rush of consuming want she’s been ignoring. Something she put in motion the _last_ time she did this, she thinks.

His lips are just as soft as she remembers, his hands just as _large_ as they settle over her hips, first tentatively, then rougher as he pulls her against him. He groans into her mouth when she opens to let his tongue sweep inside, and it’s just like that first time. The _rightness_ of it. The way his mouth seems to be designed for hers.

She knows she had reasons for avoiding this, knows that she had reasons for avoiding _him—_ but they’re lost to the way his large hands slide up her spine. The way his mouth slants against hers. He’s so _warm._ She can’t really remember what she was angry with him for, when he touches her like he is.

His hand settles over her ass, _kneading_ it—and she gasps into his mouth as he presses her into what feels like a very large s _omething_ between them. He breaks away roughly, breathing ragged and hands shaking. His forehead rests against hers, breathing in deep through his nostrils as his hands wrap around her arms. 

“Sorry,” he grates. “You’re just so—”

“What,” she presses hoarsely. “What am I?”

“Fucking perfect,” he breathes. Her lips curl into a grin as she winds her arms around his neck, and he follows up with a quiet, “Irritating, but perfect.”

She smacks his arm, but he’s already ducking, mouth moving across her throat as she moans softly with it. She can’t help the way she tilts her hips, pressing against the hard length of him through his jeans as he shudders against her.

“Let me take you home,” he murmurs. “Let me finish what you started at that party.”

A quiet gasp escapes her as his teeth nip at her throat. “Your mother— _ah_ —your mother won’t let either of us get away with leaving early.”

“I can’t sit through another hour up there knowing I could be inside you,” he grates into her skin.

“And who says I’ll let you?”

“Are you going to pretend you aren’t wet right now?”

“Asshole,” she grumbles.

“For telling the truth? _I’m_ certainly not pretending.” He accentuates this with a press of his hand against her lower back, forcing her closer. Closer to where he’s so _hard_ for her. 

“We can’t leave,” she breathes. “You know that.”

“Fuck,” he huffs.

Her fingers curl into the loops at his jeans, tugging as she steps backwards, tugging him along until her ass hits the edge of a workbench. “How fast can you be?”

“Seriously?” His head whips around. “ _Here?”_

“You’re wasting time,” she warns.

“But you’re cold.”

“Then warm me _up._ ”

He makes a guttural sound as he hoists her up, resting her at the edge of the faded laminate and capturing her mouth as her fingers work at the button of his jeans. He’s frantically pulling up the edge of her sweater dress, finding the hem of her leggings beneath and tugging roughly. 

“How do you get these damn things off?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be incredibly smart?”

“You’re testing me,” he growls.

She’s smiling as she lifts her hips, abandoning her task of working his fly apart as she reaches to roll the leggings down her thighs. Ben has already moved on to tug off her booties—letting them drop to the floor as he rises to take over her tasks, tugging her leggings down and off until his large palms slide over her bare thighs. 

“So fucking soft,” he mutters. His hand slides between her legs until his fingers rub at the lace between them, eyes hooded and dark as he presses into the wet spot there. “I’m not even going to gloat.”

“Smart decision,” she answers breathily. 

He’s breathing hard when he hooks a finger around the edge, tugging them to the side as he prods at her slick entrance. She clings to his shoulders as he eases a finger inside her, her head lolling against his shoulder as he pushes deep.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re tight,” he grates. “Knew you’d be perfect here, too.” He turns up his face, mouthing at her jaw. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about. Fucking you. _God,_ Rey.”

Her fingers grip his sleeves tighter, whimpering when he withdraws a hand to pull away. “ _Ben.”_

“I have—in my wallet”—he’s reaching in his back pocket hastily—”just hold on.”

She tugs him back to her, shaking her head against his sweater. “Implant,” she huffs. “I want to feel you.”

“Thank fuck,” he murmurs.

“Hurry,” she tells him, reaching back to tug his zipper down. Her blood is rushing in her ears, a frenetic energy humming beneath her skin that is a culmination of everything she’s packed down since that night she kissed him at the party. Like a clock wound too tight—finally righting itself and doing what it’s meant to.

It takes her longer than she’d like to pull his cock free, sucking a breath because it’s warm and heavy and _so thick_ in her hands—throbbing as she wraps her fingers around him to squeeze. He hisses between his teeth when her thumb smears the dewy beads collecting at the head, tilting his hips as if by instinct. She feels his thick fingers shoving under the bunched fabric of her sweater dress, desperately tugging at her underwear to try and move them down, aside, _anywhere_ else—and it takes them both by surprise, she thinks, when there is a distinct _ripping_ sound. His startled expression is brief, morphing into a smirk as he finishes the job, tearing the thin garment away and tucking it into his pocket.

“I’m going to get those back,” she tells him firmly.

He’s already pushing her thighs further apart, settling between them. “We’ll see.”

His palms slide up the outside of her thighs, curling under her ass as he pulls her to the edge of the table. Their foreheads touch as they both watch the head of his cock slide through her folds, notching at her entrance before he turns up his face to find her mouth. She closes her eyes as his lips move over hers, and he swallows down the tiny gasp that escapes her when he begins to slip inside. There’s a stretch to it that comes with him being so impossibly big and her being much less so—but it’s pleasant, a good burn. 

“Wait,” she says suddenly, her hand finding the place just below his navel and applying pressure to halt him. “Wait.”

Ben looks pained. “ _Wait?”_

“Tell me you’re going to listen to my ideas from here on out.”

His eyes fly down to the place where his cockhead is snug inside her, flicking back up to hers with disbelief. “You want to talk about this _now?_ ”

She nods, grinning mischievously. “Tell me.”

“Are”—he grinds his teeth, clearly uncomfortable—”you going to be reasonable and actually _walk_ me through them in a _non-_ hostile way?”

She’s still smiling a little as she nods. “I can do that.”

“Then so can I.”

She leans in to kiss him, enjoying this little victory she feels she’s due. “Okay.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he grumbles.

She tilts her hips forwards to take a little more of him. “I think you’ll manage.”

For a moment neither of them really breathe as he pushes deeper, as he buries every inch inside her, his mouth open against hers and his hands shaking a little against her skin as he grips her hips. 

“Fuck, you feel—”

“Hurry, Ben,” she urges breathily. “Shed.”

“Right.”

He leans back to draw outwards, his lips pressed tightly together as he watches himself pull out of her. His hand slides higher under her dress, wrapping around her ribs as he arches her into him, pushing back inside with more force. Her fingers wind into his hair, tugging the soft strands and fisting them tight as his mouth finds some place below her ear that makes her breath catch, her thighs pressing tight around his hips as he starts to move with a steady rhythm. 

It’s still too cold for this, there’s still a chill to her skin, and she can still see her breath in the air mingling with his, but she’s so _warm_ inside—she’s positively _burning._ Ben kisses a line up her jaw, his mouth finding hers to let his tongue slide inside. The table jolts unsteadily with every thrust of his hips, and Rey holds onto him tightly as she takes each one. 

“Next time I’ll take my time,” he huffs against her mouth. “ _Fuck.”_

It’s hard to manage words with the way he strokes into her, but she breathes out: “Next time?”

“If you don’t think we aren’t doing _this”—_ he slams into her with a groan to accentuate his point—“at least a dozen more times before the _weekend_ is out, you’re insane.”

“Someone’s— _ah—_ confident.”

He grips her tighter, one hand sliding up her spine and into her hair to cradle her head, turning it so he can kiss at her throat. “You don’t feel that?” He draws out slower only to slam back inside. “Fucking _incredible_ , Rey.”

She won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that he’s right, won’t agree that it's amazing, better than _anything_ she’s ever felt—but she thinks she doesn’t have to. She thinks he can _feel_ it. He _has_ to. Just as much as she does. 

“I can’t touch you like this,” he grates. “Can you— _fuck_. Wanna feel you come.”

She thinks that’s no problem, she’s already mostly there—so on the edge from the friction of him stroking into her roughly—but still she does as he asks. She snakes her hand between them, pressing her fingers into the swollen bud of her clit and whimpering slightly as electricity courses through her, the tightness in her belly winding deeper as she clenches around him. 

“Oh, fuck, _Ben.”_

“Just like that,” he urges hoarsely. “You’re getting so tight, fuck, so _wet._ I’m gonna come.” He groans deep as he fists her hair, bringing her back to his mouth. “I’m going to fucking _come.”_

“I’m close,” she moans. “I’m so _close.”_

“ _Come_ ,” he manages. “Want you to come on my cock. Want to _feel_ it.”

He’s driving into her now, jolting her body and the table and maybe even the entire _shed_ as far as she knows—and she feels it. Feels it in her toes and her belly and _everywhere,_ and he’s panting against her throat, he’s _shaking_ with it, and she—

“ _Fuck.”_

He holds her tight as she comes apart, trembling around his cock that is rooted deep and twitching heavily with every spurt of warmth he releases inside her. She can feel his lips mouthing everywhere they can reach, kissing down her neck and back again to trail over her jaw, finally settling over her mouth to linger as they both come down from it all. 

She’s struggling to catch her breath after, Ben in a similar state, and she smiles against his mouth as his hands wander lazily over the rumpled state of her dress. “That was very… accomodating of you.”

He chuffs out a laugh. “Was it.”

“I think this is a very good step in the right direction for our business relationship going forward,” she says seriously, fully aware that his cock is still wedged inside her even as it softens.

“Just business?”

She can’t help the way her chest gets a little tighter when she catches his expression, nothing antagonistic about it. Finding it _hopeful_ , even.

“Maybe a little more,” she murmurs.

He grins softly. “I can live with that.”

He helps her dress after, definitively _not_ returning her underwear—but she doesn’t press him on it, funnily enough. He pulls her into his chest when she’s right again, when he’s assured her that she doesn’t _completely_ look like she’s been thoroughly fucked on a workbench (he looks no worse for wear, the bastard, in fact he seems to look _better_ somehow), rubbing his hands down her bare arms to seep warmth into them and kissing her hair.

“Come home with me after this,” he mutters against her temple.

“Really? You still have energy after that?”

“You have no idea,” he laughs.

She feels nerves creeping in unbidden, thinking of what people will say, what it will _look_ like. “You really think this can work?”

“If we want it to,” he says quietly. “We can make it work. I know I do.”

She breathes in the scent of his cologne that is soaked into his sweater, nodding against the fabric. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Just okay.”

She can almost feel his smile. “I can live with okay.”

He tugs on her hand to lead her out of the shed, but she takes a moment to gather up the little box he’d given her, tucking the little sprig that started all this back inside and holding it against her dress. Ben gives her a curious look, and she just shrugs.

“Might need it later.”

He grins as his fingers wind through hers, pulling her against his side as they walk back up the hill. He only releases her after quiet encouragement to do so outside of the house, telling him maybe his mother isn’t ready for such a surprise tonight. She just got him back, after all. They reenter the house as innocently as possible, finding the living room full again as four pairs of eyes turn on them.

“Well?” Leia gives them a pointed look. “Have you cooled off?”

Rey feels her cheeks heat, nodding nonchalantly. “We’re good.”

“Very good,” Ben says innocently.

Leia’s eyes narrow slightly, but she lets it go apparently as she waves them inside. She pats the place next to her on the couch, and Rey plops down beside her as Ben settles in the armchair across the room. She tries her best not to look at him, but it’s hard when he’s unabashedly staring at her, and she finds herself grinning softly despite it all.

“You two were gone awhile,” Leia murmurs quietly beside her, capturing Rey’s attention as she turns her head with heat creeping down her neck. 

“Oh?” She clears her throat. “Sorry. Took awhile.”

Leia reaches for her wine glass, bringing it to her lips with a knowing smile. “I notice neither of you brought back any wood.”

Rey’s eyes widen as her flush spreads. “I—that is, we—”

Leia pats her knee, and when Rey flicks her eyes across the room she finds Ben watching this occur with rapt curiosity. “I think it’s going to be a Merry fucking Christmas, don’t you?”

“ _Leia.”_

“Whoops,” the older woman chuckles. “Maybe that’s enough wine for me.” And then a little louder for the rest of the room: “Let’s open some gifts!”

She pushes off the couch, and it takes Ben about twelve seconds to rise from his chair and cross the room to take the seat beside Rey. Leia is busying herself with passing out her gifts, and Ben leans in to whisper near Rey’s ear.

“Is the jig up?”

Rey groans. “Maybe a little.”

“Well,” Ben smiles. “I guess this is fine, then.”

He leans in, pressing his lips to her cheek and making her body heat to indescribable levels even as it tenses because everyone can _see._

The room is quiet when he pulls away, leaving Rey shell shocked even as Ben settles casually into the back of the couch, draping his arm around her shoulders possessively as he grabs for candy-coated almonds from the dish at the end table, popping one into his mouth and looking back at the gaping faces casually.

“What?”

Leia is beaming now, and Poe looks dumbstruck, and Hux looks… just… _struck—_ but she thinks Han takes the cake, grumbling under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a crisp bill, leaning to place it in Leia’s outstretched hand.

Rey is about to protest at whatever _that’s_ about, but Leia claps her hands together gleefully. “Merry Christmas, everyone! Open your damned gifts. Enough with this quiet.”

She forces them all to divert their attention elsewhere, and Ben’s fingers curl around her shoulders to pull her into his side even as she’s still a little at a loss for what just occurred. 

“Merry Christmas, Rey,” he murmurs softly.

Rey huffs out a laugh, reaching to pat his hand that is still wrapped around one shoulder. “Merry fucking Christmas, indeed.”

“What?”

She shakes her head, turning into him and tossing her careful plans to the wind as she tugs him close, brushing her lips against his. “Let’s get out of here after this.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Really.”

He beams back at her. “A Christmas miracle.”

She thinks of terrible email exchanges and bitter words and unexpected fiascos involving unfortunate mistletoe placement and just _all_ of it really—smiling back at him before she pulls him in for another kiss.

“Yeah,” she answers softly. “It really is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAVE YOURSELF A (not so) LITTLE DICKMAS 🎶


	5. Meant To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I needed a happy ending today. ❤️
> 
> This was my favorite of the gif boards [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) made for this story! 😍 The lights blinking are to die for. 😭
> 
> Thank you to my sweet friend PoetHrotsvitha for a quick beta. ❤️

“—and cheers to _Rey_ ,” Leia toasts, holding up her champagne flute. “Who put up with a good number of shenanigans this past year and successfully herded our team”—she casts a pointed look at Poe, who rolls his eyes—“into our most successful venture to date.”

Rey smiles sheepishly. “It was a team effort.”

“It’s Christmas, dear,” Leia chides. “Let me gush if I want to.”

“Well, if you _have_ to.”

Leia beams, clinking her flute against Rey’s as the crowd disperses elsewhere. “Can you believe it’s been an entire year? Last Christmas we were still worrying about getting a testable prototype.”

Rey laughs a little under her breath. “What a year.”

Leia smiles knowingly against the rim of her flute. “And for more than one reason.”

“Right.” Rey smiles, eyes flicking about the room but coming up empty. “Speaking of, where is he?”

Leia frowns as she scans the room. “Skulking, I imagine. You know he’s never liked these things.”

“He is a constant,” Rey murmurs, not the least bit put out by it. 

“I think Poe promised me a dance,” Leia muses as she looks about for that familiar mop of dark curls. “Think I could tear him away from his husband?”

“Good luck with that one,” Rey chuckles. “What about Han?”

“Haven’t seen him since we arrived,” Leia snorts. “Just like Ben. I swear. Why they’ll never admit it is beyond me.” She pats Rey’s shoulder. “Don’t drink all the champagne while I’m gone.”

“No promises.”

Leia shakes her head as she moves away, grinning. 

The party is in full swing now, couples dancing and laughing about the floor in time with upbeat Christmas covers from artists Rey doesn’t recognize. She downs her flute before she snags another, carrying it with her to someplace quieter. 

She settles for a familiar alcove, leaning against the wall and taking a sip as she lets her gaze wander about the room. It’s funny, she thinks, to be here again. Funnier just how different she feels on this occasion than she did just a short year ago. 

“You don’t like these things either?”

Rey can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, not bothering to turn and look at him. “I don’t mind them.”

She feels strong arms circle around her middle, his nose brushing along her throat as he pulls her against him. “Waste of corporate money, if you ask me,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against her pulse point. “But I suppose they have their merits.”

“Where have you been hiding?”

“My dad found a bottle of whiskey and an empty conference room,” Ben laughs. 

“Typical.”

“Missed me terribly, huh?”

“Maybe a little.” 

He lets his palms slide over the smooth lines of the red silk at her hips. “We could get out of here.”

“Not a chance,” she chides. “We’re staying till it’s over or until Poe starts singing. Whichever comes first.”

“Mm.” He finally turns her, grinning as her arms move to encircle his neck. “A solid plan, I guess.” He gives an over-dramatic sigh. “Although this dress would look better on the floor.”

She lets her fingers wind through his hair, noting how very similar this moment is to their first—and also how very _different_ it is. “And just this morning you were grumbling about me leaving my clothes all over your floor.”

“ _Our_ floor,” he corrects.

She smiles sheepishly. She isn’t quite used to that yet. “Right.” 

“I think in this one instance I might make an exception.”

“Oh?” She laughs under her breath. “How gracious of you.”

He nods seriously. “It _is_ what I’m known for.”

“Of course,” she scoffs. “How could I forget.”

Ben tilts his head up, smirking at the little sprig above them. “I’m starting to think maybe you just have a thing for luring me to places like this.”

“Don’t you know I’m only here for your mouth?”

He squeezes her a little tighter, lowering his voice. “There _are_ several things I can do with it.”

“Drive me to drink, mostly,” she teases.

“Is that all?”

The look he gives her warms her to her toes, and it has nothing to do with the champagne, she thinks. “Maybe a little more.”

He beams back at her. “I can live with that.”

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you going to keep talking?”

“That _is_ always the dilemma—but I thought I’d give you your present first, actually.”

She scrunches her nose. “Christmas isn’t for another few days.”

He shrugs. “I guess I’m just overflowing with Christmas spirit.” 

“Right.” She cocks an eyebrow. “I forgot who I was talking to.”

“I _do_ tend to have the effect of making people forget themselves.” 

Rey rolls her eyes. “Just give me my present.”

He’s smiling bemusedly as he reaches into his coat pocket, fishing out a tiny red box adorned with a white bow that he holds out in offering. Its shape and size is familiar, and she looks up at him curiously as she gives a little laugh, plucking the box from his palm to tear at the ribbon.

“You know, the first time you did this it was romantic—now it might just be lazy.”

Ben doesn’t say anything, content to watch her pry it open as he just gives a little shrug. She shakes her head at first as she touches a sprig of green she recognizes all-too-well—the same gift that he’d given her that started it all, in hindsight. 

But then she sees what’s attached.

Her mouth parts silently as she fishes out the platinum band that rests beneath, one large stone glittering in the warm lights of the party. She looks up at him in surprise just as he plucks it away to fall to one knee. It’s hard to breathe, and her heart is racing, and her chest is so _full_ as he finally starts to speak in a low tone.

“You wouldn’t give me your name”—his thumb strokes the back of her hand as he holds it in his own—“the last time we were here.” She feels the same press of his thumb over her ring finger, smiling up at her. “I thought this time I’d offer you mine.”

She can feel the sting at her eyes, the way elation floods her to fill her up to the brim, wetness trickling down her cheeks.

She smiles through her tears as she manages to echo a similar sentiment to one from another party. “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

“I’m asking you to _marry_ me,” he grins, remembering. “It’s about the only good thing that could come from this ridiculous party.”

Her face hurts from the way she’s smiling. “I _do_ know your name, I suppose.”

“Well, would you?”

She takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she imprints every second of this moment onto her memory, nodding finally. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Just okay.”

“I can live with okay.”

He rises to his feet, sliding the ring onto her finger as she tries and fails to suppress the giddiness that courses through her. He brings that same hand to his mouth after, leaving a kiss just over the stone as he smiles softly against her skin before he looks up at her happily. 

He looks up at the mistletoe above them. “I think you should kiss me now.” 

She pulls her hands away only to bring them behind his head, pulling him down to her. “You think so?”

“It’s my favorite tradition,” he answers softly.

She can feel the brush of his lips against hers as she answers, “It might be mine, too.”

He kisses her just like that first time, like he’s made for it, like he’s _born_ to—and Rey melts into it now. Soaking up every bit of love and warmth she found in him. Every ounce of belonging he’s given her. 

A year ago she might have called this a Christmas miracle. Might have said that it was _amazing_ that they could get this far. Now she thinks of his small smile and his sharp wit and his quiet _I love you_ in the dark as he holds her close—and she thinks it isn’t a miracle at all. 

She thinks it’s simply where she’s meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey takes the name she’s meant to. ❤️
> 
> It’s been a hard week, but these two made me smile. 
> 
> I know everything with TRoS is circulating, but I ask that we keep spoilers out of the comments in respect of those who have avoided them. ❤️
> 
> EDIT:  
>   
> This amazing piece was gifted to me by [Derpy_mommy](https://twitter.com/Derpy_mommy) on Twitter! 😍 I COULD NOT LOVE IT MORE THEIR POSE AND EXPRESSIONS AND REY'S DRESS IT IS PERFECT. 😭❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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